Those of you familiar with my blog probably know that I am a DJ. I have DJ’d professionally–on FM radio and as a mobile–for twenty-five years, most of that time spent as a mobile.
I no longer actively DJ. Instead, my husband and I manage a small business in which we employ a collective of younger, hipper, physically stronger DJs. (Sorry, honey.)
DJing came to me fortuitously and somewhat unexpectedly; my husband was in radio at the time and, as a part time air personality, was tasked with doing private parties for people calling the station looking for a DJ. I went with him to his gigs and before long I was doing my own.
Mobile DJing required a very different skill set from what I had learned in college radio and from what my husband was doing at 104.5 The Fox, although some of the cross over skills we accrued were definitely assets. In any event, it wasn’t my intention to DJ professionally in any capacity, let alone to do it for a quarter of a century, but that’s what happened.
It was tough going at first. I had no experience as a dance DJ and I hadn’t spent much time in night clubs (aside from the year I spent with my husband in a strip club where he was DJing. I’ve written about that little episode. Terrible.) The few clubs I did go to, back in the day, were rock clubs where live bands played.
Consequently I have many harrowing, cringe inducing stories from early in my career that perhaps I will share later. I can look back on these memories and laugh, but at the time, I assure you, it wasn’t funny at all. In fact I would have thrown in the towel, probably after my very first gig, if I could have–but I didn’t have that option.
Well, I take that back, I could have, but that would mean me going back to working low paying–and if not that–back-breaking jobs, as my qualifications were few and my connections fewer still. So I sucked it up.
Anyway, this particular incident happened when I was probably a good six or seven years into my career, when I was over the big hump of not knowing what the hell I was doing, much more comfortable in my acquired skills, but I still had a lot to learn about the nuances of the job.
Back in those days we did a lot of smaller gigs–backyard barbecues, family and class reunions, school dances, that kind of thing. And we did a lot of out of town gigs in the smaller cities skirting Nashville and the surrounding counties.
Now I remember precisely what town I was in, but I’m not going to divulge that bit of info. I’m sure it would be perfectly fine if I did, but I’m very cautious when it comes to this kind of stuff, so mum’s the word.
The gig was a bachelorette party and it was at this little, rinky-dink “country club”–a cinder-block country club (yeah, I’m with ya’, it’s the first and last time I’ve seen one of those too) way on the outskirts of the town. I arrived on location about forty-five minutes beforehand to setup.
In those days I did my own setup and take down, so I was dreading this one. It was upstairs, in a room over the country club.
Well, I go up the stairs to check out the room and the door was locked and the lights were off. Immediately I got an extra dose of anxiety because I was already about thirty minutes later than I wanted to be, considering I had to haul all my gear up the stairs.
When I drove up, I saw there were some cars in the parking lot. So I went downstairs to the main portion of the building. As I approached the door, I noticed that it was a metal and that it had a diamond shaped window cut into it. The window was covered in foil. Not a good sign.
But I had a job to do and I was running out of time. So I turned the knob and walked in.
Oh boy. Did I get an eye full. It was a scene right out of the movie Walking Tall. The original Joe Don Baker, Walking Tall; not the Bo Svenson one or–gag!–the Duane Johnson, aka, The Rock, Walking Tall.
The room was full of gambling paraphernalia. There was a roulette table. There were slot machines and there was a lady, I rather thin-faced woman with a stern expression, sitting at a table dealing cards. To my recollection, she was the only woman in the room. I looked at her and she looked at me. And that was all she wrote.
I turned and calmly walked out the door. Now keep in mind that I took in all of this in less than a minute.
I went back to my van, got in and locked the doors. I almost threw the thing in reverse and got the hell out of dodge. But I didn’t. My husband and I had a little girl, a mortgage and bills to pay.
In about five minutes a pickup pulled into the lot and parked beside me. An kindly looking gentleman got out. He had the keys to the upstairs room. He offered to help me carry up my gear, but I politely refused.
He was elderly.
≅
And since I’ve been writing about DJing, I thought I would give you a sample of my wares. Now this is nothing fancy. No tricks. No gimmicks. And it’s not necessarily dance music either. There’s some 80s and some 90s–mostly rock.
It’s about an hour of continuous music, so fair warning.
Enjoy, if you’re so inclined.
That sounds like a scary place to walk into! Thanks for sharing some of the ups and downs of DJing.
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Ha! It was. Funny thing is, it wasn’t the last time I walked into a room like that, DJing.
Thanks for reading.
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I am presuming that the gambling joint was ‘illegal’, hence your trepidation. I do remember that film with Joe Don Baker though. Sheriff Buford Pusser. ‘Speak softly, and carry a big stick’. It must be more than 45 years years since I watched that film, but I have never forgotten it. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Oh yeah, it was illegal. Big time. Thanks for reading, Pete.
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Sorry, Pam for the novel…you stirred a lot of memories.
That profession is hard. I’ve worked with a few DJ’s and it’s not easy at times.
That sounds like a lot of counties in my surrounding area. I admire you Pam…I couldn’t do it. I’d want to play what I wanted to play…that would not fly. You never know how the people will end up where you play. You have to generate excitement by yourself…that is not always easy with different crowds.
When I played in a band that played around we played what we wanted…period. People liked it and we never had many complaints…except you are too loud!… British rock and a little country rock so those people would be satisfied. Sometimes we would say…here is a Beatles outtake….and we would play an original.
We alternated with a few DJ’s…most were great and very cool off stage. Only one I remembered bombed. He was so arrogant. We called him the jukebox with an attitude…My favorite crowds? Motorcycle gangs…They were kinder to us than most country club audiences…I take that back…the women’s prison was the absolute best!
You have to play what people want. I would be fired…here is Won’t Get Fooled Again etc…I wouldn’t go over well. I’ve seen many DJ’s in action…it’s not an easy profession.
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Ha! Jukebox with an attitude! I’ve heard that one. And band in a box. Heard that one too. Haters. Ha! We’ve worked with bands too. Some were nice, some were jerks. All of the bands I worked with personally were really good, though; may not have been the nicest people–at least not to me but they were good musicians. We’ve worked with some “rock star” DJs too, where we just supplied the set up and the DJ rocked the crowd. These were DJs that were flown in from LA, New York, San Francisco. Some were really nice, humble people. Some were @$$****$. That’s just the way it is. We worked with Blake Shelton, once. He was super nice. He was just he is on TV.
Anyway, thanks for reading, Max.
–Pam
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Man, DJing sounds like it can be problematic at times but you must have met a lot of interesting people. Like the illegal gambling place–I just imagine James Bond and Phil Ivey types walking around in there. Some cowboys, maybe. Cowboys? I don’t know. Probably thinking of cowboys because of the music in the first few minutes of your sample. It just sounds like that job was stuffed full of the potential for anything to happen.
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Ha! James Bond types! Noooo. Not cowboys either. (That’s Lou Reed that your referring to.) There’s not really a lot of cowboys in Tennessee–that’s more of a Texan thing! No these were pretty rough folks. At least the lady was–she’s the only one I really got a good look at. Hard looking. But yeah, I’ve got stories! That’s one of the better one’s though. I have to admit. Thanks for reading Stacey. I’ve looked for your posts but haven’t seen one come down it a bit. I always enjoy them.
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Oh, you’ve lived some! This is my Saturday playlist but it isn’t long enough. More, more!
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Cool! It pleases me that you like it. Of course, it’s right there in our little sequence of time. Heavy on the 80s. Lot’s of new wave inspired stuff.
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Some of the 80’s music I heard in the clubs I really didn’t appreciate back then, much more now
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Of course, always a pleasure.
As for me, I’m not a prolific blogger.
If I do it once a month, I’m doing well! But thanks for asking.
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Normally I’m about a once or twice a month blogger–I bow out for periods of time too, but right now with this COVID-19 thing I’m being prolific. Therapy of sorts, I guess. Well, take care.
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It’s a good time to write, for sure. And it IS a kind of therapy. Probably cathartic for everybody. You take care too.
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The Adventures Of Grandmaster Pam On The Wheels Of Steel.
You say one for the trouble
Two for the time
Come on girls let rock that (insert whistle sound here)
Thanks for sharing the story of your DJ excursions Pam.
Sounds like you one tough lady. I think I would of taken one look at that place and gone “Shiiiiiiit Duck Dat!” and hot hoofed outta there.
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Thanks, Mikey. Overdue bills spurred me. Otherwise not so brave or tough.
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Hi Pam,
Well… I didn’t realize I was that much of a hermit in the 80s and 90s, but I guess I was. I’ve listened about halfway through this great mix and have yet to recognize one song! I need to download Shazam.
I’m always interested in what you share, especially when it’s about your experience with music. Thanks so much for sharing this firsthand look into DJing with us.
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Ha! You’re sweet, DW. I bet you remember Red Rubber Ball by Cyrcle. And Don’t You Care by The Buckinghams. But, yeah, most of the stuff is alternative rock, or alternative pop (supposedly an oxymoron, but not) so it’s a little off the mainstream–not too much though. These days I don’t go for anything too radical. I’m glad you like my “musical” posts. And I’m always pleased when you drop by.
–Pam
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I really enjoyed your post, even though I know absolutely nothing about DJing, it sounds like a very tough gig.
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Thanks Paul. For me, it was tough. It could be a lot of fun too.
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